Now I know why Gordon Ramsay swears a lot! Cookery might well be a deeply satisfying occupation, as you sample the finished product, smack your lips and declare it a job well done. But it can't half be stressful.

I got off to a bad start. The plan had been to leave home in good time to arrive at Bettys Cookery School just outside Harrogate at least half hour early to give me time to settle in, look around and start the day-long cookery course in a calm frame of mind. Roadworks at Huby and congestion on the Wetherby Road ate into all that spare time and more besides.

I was ten minutes late, in disgrace and flustered when I sat down to watch our tutors demonstrate the first dish we were due to make. No time to look around the splendid modern kitchen and peep into the cupboards to find out what utensils were stored where.

"Fish Suppers" was the title of the course I'd chosen to sample. Tutors Lisa Bennison and Amy Holroyd - a knowledgeable, witty pair - were to take turns in showing us how to make various dishes. And after each demonstration we were to take ourselves off to our workstations and replicate what they had done.

There were 15 of us on the course - seven men and eight women. In the brief moments throughout the day when we weren't concentrating and grafting too hard for any conversation, it became clear that we were there for a variety of reasons. Some had enjoyed several similar courses before and were there to add yet another string to their culinary bow. Others had had the course bought for them as a birthday present, or been sent along by their partner or spouse to improve their cooking skills, or simply enjoyed good food and wanted to know how to prepare it.

Three men aged around the 40 mark who were "in property" fell into that last category. They were there because they were foodies and wanted to improve their skills in the kitchen.

And then there was me, tasked not only with paying attention to the techniques being demonstrated to us but also trying to make copious notes with a mind to writing this feature.

First up was Fish Pie. Well, no - actually first up was the difference between various knives, and the correct way to sharpen them. And then came the safe way to use them, on a board placed on a damp cloth to eliminate all chance of it slipping on the worktop.

Chopping boards were colour coded: green for vegetables, red for fish and meat. As Amy peeled and chopped the potatoes (one each of ordinary and sweet) she explained that the best way to boil them - and any other vegetables that grow underground - was to start them off in cold water. Vegetables that grow above the ground should be put into boiling water.

The day was to be full of little tips like that: when you're chopping an onion, leave its root bit on until the last moment to hold things together; leave shrink-wrapped fish in its packaging until you're ready to use it, and don't wash it; always use hot liquid to make sauce, to avoid lumps; if onions make you cry, don't keep wiping your eyes because that film of tears is your body's way of stabilising the situation and protecting you.

All this and much more I noted down assiduously, which is probably why I wasn't paying full attention to the method. Which in turn is probably why when it came to our turn to make the fish pie I found myself deeply flummoxed.

Fortunately Sylvia at the adjacent workstation had been on courses here before and was able to show me where pans, sieves and all the rest of the items we needed were in the various cupboards (and show my how to light the rings on the hob, and take over the setting of the oven timer, and point me in the direction of the oil drizzler, and come to my help at various other times when I was standing there looking bewildered).

Somehow I managed to peel the potatoes and get them boiling, saute the onions and leek and then simmer them with the bay leaf in the fish stock and white wine, add the fish and prawns and simmer for a while longer, and then strain the liquor into a measuring jug (after first failing to locate said jug until Sylvia came to the rescue again).

And then came the big challenge: making the sauce!

I melted the butter, added the flour and stirred it into a smooth paste. Then I slowly added the fish stock, stirring all the while as directed until I had a lovely smooth liquid. Amy, doing her rounds, checked it over my shoulder and gave it the all-clear. To this, after she'd moved on, I added the double cream, Dijon mustard, seasoning and parsley. Then I studied the recipe again. Horror! I'd forgotten to bring the sauce up to the boil first, stirring continuously, to thicken it. It was all runny!

I gave it a boil there and then and hoped for the best. It wasn't very thick though. When I put the potato top on the pie, half of it seemed to sink. And when time came to put it in the oven I found that in my confusion I'd managed to turn mine off. Sylvia's oven came to the rescue.

The sauce bubbled over a bit, but the finished pie looked reasonably edible.

The sudden rush of adrenaline needed to get this first dish completed, do the washing up and put the equipment back in its proper place without falling too far behind the rest of the class seemed to set me up for the rest of the day.

The Smoked Mackeral Pate was a doddle (though slicing the bread up the middle for the Melba Toast proved tricky stuff and cleaning the blender was a nightmare). By the time we came to the Salmon en Croute I was racing. Pastry bases rolled, vegetables sauted and laid on them, salmon fillets placed on those, seasoning and lemon juice added, pastry tops draped over and edges sealed, hole pierced in top of each one.

Easy peasy. Except I did seem to have considerably more in the way of pastry trimmings than Amy had produced during her demonstration. I'd rolled out the puff pastry rather thinner than I should. Trouble is, once it's rolled you can't bulk it up again.

The Thai-style Kedgeree came out looking just like Liza's, and tasting good too. And for the finale, a parsley sauce to go with the Salmon en Croute, I managed to remember to thicken the stuff at the right stage and it turned out a winner.

At the end of the afternoon I staggered to my car, exhausted but exhilarated, with all that I'd made during the day in a Bettys carrier bag to be put to the taste test back home (the fish pie went down well, the en croute will be sampled tonight).

Last item on the list of many things I'd learned during a busy day had been how to poach an egg (to go on the kedgeree) the professional way: by stirring the boiling water to create a vortex into which the egg is dropped, so the white wraps protectively round the yolk like a cocoon and it comes out looking like a ball. That'll be put to the test tomorrow!

  • A wide range of day courses at Bettys Cookery School cost £150 a time. For the 2007 programme ring 01423 814016, e-mail cookery-school@bettysandtaylors.co.uk, or visit www.bettyscookeryschool.co.uk